In the Midnight Gleaning
by Chelle-sama
Summary: When do questions haunt you? ExT It's all in present tense, so it's a little different.


In the Midnight, Gleaning ****

Disclaimer: I'd say "No copyright infringement intended" but I did. I willfully, gleefully, plotted this whole thing. But I swear I made no money off it, lost time, and had my tsuin disown me. (Before she did worse. HA!) CLAMP and Kodansha own Akizuki Nakuru, Daidouji Tomoyo, Hiiragizawa Eriol, Mizuki Kaho, and Spinel.

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Dedication: Tsuin Circe, as always. She's a wonderful beta reader and she seems to think I can write. Crazy, eh?

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Notes: They're older. Upper twenties, I'd say, maybe even as far as thirty. It's probably AU (how can you tell with the future, though, if you don't touch the known past?) Definite OOC-ness. Glean: to collect…to gather bit by bit…to examine…to find out.

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Further Notes That I Forgot The First Time Around: Sadly, I came up with parts of this due to John Waite's "Ain't Missin' You." He owns it, I don't. See how many cleverly (and glaringly, blinding, obvious) song references I've made! O.o; Or not.

In the Midnight Gleaning

He stands in the darkness of his living room - the casual one, not the formal. He traces, over and over again, the numbers on the phone's lit-up keypad. Her numbers. The ones that would connect them through time zones and distances. If he calls her. If she calls him. If they speak at all.

He shouldn't. He should go back upstairs and go to bed. It's midnight. Tomorrow, he thinks, with no real humor. He's supposed to wake up in just over six hours. Early day, Mondays. She might have already started hers. It's 8:00 a.m. back home. In Japan. England is home again, now. He's back in Read Manor, and everything is just like it used to be. The gardens, the quiet, and Kaho.

And he wants to call her. To hear her voice, for just a moment. Remind them both that the other is still out there, still okay. He hopes she's okay. He believes that she is, every day, because he wouldn't be able to function if he let himself wonder if that was true or not. He's learned to lie to himself pretty well. He sometimes even thinks that things are fine, and that he's happy.

But it is overwhelming need that drives him to pick up the phone and dial those numbers right from his heart. He's so lonely without her.

"Daidouji Tomoyo speaking."

She's in her sunny little kitchen yet. She was going to start for her studio, it was past time she start working on that new design, but the little window box flowers are so beautiful in the early light. She's stayed to watch them grow, even if she can't actually see it happening. 

She wasn't startled by the phone, strangely enough. The ring had blended right in with her morning, soft, gentle, and welcome. She wonders, for a moment, if it is because of the magic this morning seems to be lit with. From the inside out, if days or nights have an inside hidden somewhere.

"Good morning, Tomoyo-san." 

She smiles at this. She knows that morning has only just begun where he is, is less than a minute old. That it's still and dark and quiet, and the others must be asleep. He only calls her when the night is deep like that. Nakuru calls when everything is bright and filled with energy, with the sounds of life rioting in the background. She likes both types of calls because they are so very like the people who make them.

"Having trouble sleeping, Eriol-san? Did you want me to sing you a lullaby?" She knows that he can hear the smile she's wearing. He used to see it often.

"If I said yes, would you do it?" He's joking, and he's not. She doesn't know what to do about that. It frightens her.

"You don't have a rocking chair. Remember? You have to be rocking when you hear a lullaby or the Sandman will come steal you away." It's an old joke of theirs, formed over the years and then the distance between them. They haven't used it in a long time. He hasn't called to say good morning in a long time. Sometimes she gets up early to say good night, though. She thinks she might not have done it in a while. It's hard to remember when she's been traveling. She hates traveling.

"Oh, yes. I'll have to remember to get one. You haven't sung to me for a long time." 

He can remember the last time. He remembers everything about it, all the small details. How the sheets smelled only of them, because they had to do laundry. The way the light of the moon slipped through the shades and danced across their bed. She rocked him that night. Arms wrapped around him from behind, singing in his ear, she swayed with him. 

He does own a rocking chair. He's sitting in it right now. But he doesn't tell her this. He never tells her those kinds of things. She becomes busy when he does, has to go, so he has learned not to.

He does believe that she is busy. He hears her name every so often. People talking of fashion, of her quirky designs and color schemes. It makes him smile when he catches her name and Paris mentioned together. He's so proud of her. She worked so hard for this. It makes her happy.

"Missing my impromptu concerts?" 

God, yes.

"Me? No. I ain't missin' you at all." He says that because he knows she'll correct him. He shouldn't have called. He should have gone to bed and to sleep and woken up at just after 6 so he would have a little time to spare to make toast for Spinel. 

"You're not missing me." She says it like it's a fact. And since she's addressing the grammar of it, she's right.

"I'm not?"

"Last time I heard "ain't" wasn't an English word." 

It might be in some other language. He never bothered to find out. He doesn't like speaking to her in English, anyway. She likes to practice on him, though, so he does it when he calls. Which he shouldn't have done, not when he feels like her voice is the only thing in the world that can make his heart stop hurting. Because is doesn't. It shouldn't. It does, anyway. It was always rather contrary.

"I know."

He doesn't say it with the light tone, the upward bounce on the last word, that he has when he's joking with her. He sounds serious. 'I _know_.' Because, of course, he did.

Which means he's missing her right now. He's lonely, standing or sitting in the dark, phone held tight, and he's missing her enough to call her when no one else will hear his voice. She has to stop this conversation before it can begin, because she gets lonely too. Those are the times she calls to say goodnight. But they can't be lonely at the same time. They just can't be.

"How's Mizuki-sensei?" It's a gentle way of reminding him of the woman asleep in his bed. Of the woman he got back together with when they were over. He's living in England again because she likes it there. He loves her. He has to.

"She's well." He hesitates ever so slightly before he says, "We're happy here." He pauses for a long second. If she didn't know him so well, she wouldn't have thought anything of it. But she does know him. Very well. She's glad she's on the cordless; it means that she can go into her study where it's dim and musty with books and comfortable chairs. Chairs she can curl up in when it starts to hurt. She doesn't have the heart to stop this conversation. He's got a way of slipping past all her defenses without half trying.

"Sometimes it surprises me, though. How different Read Manor is from the old apartment. It makes me wonder how I got from here to there to here again."

Despite herself, she has to smile. She had loved that rundown little apartment. The walls that used to be white but weren't anymore and the paint was peeling a little anyway. The outlet in the bathroom that didn't work unless the radio was on in the bedroom she shared with Eriol. The ceiling fan that almost fell when Spinel landed on it. That she, Spinel, Eriol, and Nakuru were constantly under each other's feet no matter what they did. The fact that it was theirs, and theirs alone. 

"As I recall, Mother had disinherited me because I refused to go to university, and Nakuru had managed to tie up almost all of your assets in some nutty plan." It had taken some getting used to, though. She remembers that. Neither she nor Eriol had ever lived in a place like it before. Hadn't ever really thought they would. They were both rich, after all. One of them could have bought the whole building, half the town, if they'd had access to that money.

"His scheme did work. Eventually." He laughs a little. They both love Nakuru's playful attitude toward life. "And your mother did take you back. Once you proved to her that you could do whatever you wanted to, and be good at it."

"The waitressing?"

"Okay, almost anything. Virginia." She had refused to put her own name on her nametag. She said she wanted to be someone else for a change. He'd laughed at her choice – Mikiko - it was just so cute. He calls her Virginia if they talk about it now, because it was part of a song that he knows she liked. He'd had to use a little magic to get a good American station. The English music stations were easier. She always laughed when he put on the Chinese stations, because her English was far better than her Chinese, so only he knew what the words meant. They listened to anything at all. Usually she'd sing along, even with the commercials if they were bouncy and bright.

"It was a cute name. And I did learn to answer to it." She says the last part very firmly, no joking about that, Eriol. He'd teased her endlessly back in that apartment.

"I wonder if it's still there? The building, I mean, not the diner. I always thought it should have been condemned."

"You just didn't like the fact that it was a fourth floor walk-up." She thinks for a moment, then decides to tell him. "It's there yet. I drove by it not long ago. The diner is, too. It still has the worst food in Japan." 

"You're a long way out of there." He's puzzled. Why would she be driving in that part of town? 

Because, she wants to answer the question he's not asking, Because I wanted to see all the places we used to go. But she says, "I had business in town. Took the long way in so I could think." It's a verbal shrug, and they both know it. They shouldn't be talking about these things. He's got Kaho. She has her work and her friends. It's what she wants. It's what he wants. 

But sometimes he forgets that, and he wants what he used to have. Like now. He thinks of how very tired he is of waking up and being surprised to see neatly braided red-brown hair, instead of loose dark curls flowing over the pillows and her and him. He stands up and goes to the window. Looking at the gardens, he can see the rainbow he made out of flowers. The colors are washed out by the moonlight. Except for the irises, violets, lavender, and lilacs, he thinks. The ones that always remind him of her eyes. They look more vibrant in this light.He can't remember why they aren't together. He just doesn't know why anymore.

"Tomoyo? Do you ever miss me?"

She twists in her chair, bringing her knees up to her chin where her head rests on the arm. She had known something like this would happen. She should have told him she had to work. She shouldn't have said anything about the apartment. She should have kept asking about his strange little family. What was Nakuru doing, anyway? Had Spinel ever finished Atlas Shrugged? She'd laughed at him for trying to get through it. He didn't like it at all, but he was determined to finish what he started. But she hasn't, and now she has to find a way out of this. If there is one.

"Of course I do, Eriol-san. You're one of my oldest and best friends. I don't even get to see you as often as I do Syaoran-san and Sakura-chan, you're so far away." She hopes he'll leave it alone. This used to happen a lot. But it's been a long time. Would he have forgotten how she always purposely misunderstood questions that she didn't want to answer? How she used to carefully change the subject if she didn't like it? She doesn't like to think that he might have. But she shouldn't. He should forget. They both should.

"I'm sorry, that was my fault. I meant, do you ever miss us? Do you think about what we used to be, and wish it was still that way?" His voice is very soft. He sounds like he's more than a little unhappy. 

She does. She misses him right now. She misses them. She'd dreamt of him last night, and had been surprised that he wasn't in bed when she woke, not so very long ago. That she couldn't hear him making breakfast. It had taken a moment to come fully awake and push those thoughts and feelings away. Maybe he _was_ still psychic. He used to read her tea leaves and tell her silly things that he swore they had said to him. 

She's trembling and has to take a breath around the pain in her heart. She has to answer him. "Eriol-san…"

"Eriol. Just Eriol. Please, Tomoyo?" 

His voice is shaking. He is shaking. He presses his forehead against the cool glass, knowing that he's looking towards Japan. Knowing that he's crossing all the lines they've made to keep them friends. She'll go soon. But he needs to hear her say his name, just once more, the way she used to. He needs to know. Even if it hurts because they're over, really over, and have been for so long he can't remember what she tastes like when they kiss. He's upsetting them both. He shouldn't have called.

"Let's not do this, Eriol. It's not good for either of us." He almost whimpers in gratitude when she says it. Or pain, because she's pulling away from this conversation. From him. Them.

"I do. I miss us. I wish for you when I see shooting stars. I can't help it."

"Don't do this, please, don't. I thought we were past this."

"I can't get past it. I don't know if I want to. I don't even know if it's possible."

"Kaho-sensei…"

He flinches at her name. How can he do this to her again? She had ended their first relationship because she had seen how he looked at Tomoyo. She'd known before he had. But she'd taken him back, too. Had he looked as though he was over her, then? How? Because…. 

"She's not you, Tomoyo." He does whimper this time. He can't help needing her. "It just isn't the same. I try…I try so hard, Tomoyo. But you won't leave my dreams." He can feel slow tears sliding down his cheeks, but he doesn't care. Not now. 

"Eriol…stop." He hears the pain in her voice. Hates that he put it there. But he's hurting, too. If they're both hurting, why not…why not?

"Why?" 

It's only a whisper, but she hears him. It's the loudest sound in the world. And she doesn't know what he's asking. "Why stop?" Or "Why aren't we together?" She can only answer the first question. Later. Later she'll remember why the second. She's sure she will. It's why she still misses him, instead of going to him. It was important. He went to England because of it, and she stayed in Japan. They put a world between them. It must have been something important. And although she's the champion of self-deception, she's beginning to realize that all lies fall apart with enough time.

"Because." She can barely get the word out. She's going to start crying soon. She can feel the tears trembling, waiting to fall. But not now. He can't hear her cry. Over them. Over who they used to be to each other. He's already confused, thinking that he wants to be with her. She can't let him think that. He can't know that she's confused too. It has to stop before it goes too far and that won't happen if she cries. She remembers that much of those strange gray days when their world ended. Crying led them back to bed, where they could pretend everything was okay. But it wasn't. And pretending only prolonged the agony.

"I miss you, Tomoyo. I miss everything about you. About who I am when I'm with you. Just…tell me why? Why we're both hurting like this?" 

She can't. She has no idea why she's missing him when she still wants him, loves him. Why she isn't with him. She just remembers that they aren't together, and they both made that decision. When they were calmer. When they were thinking with their heads, instead of their sleepy, lonely hearts. Because it's early for her. It's late for him. They're just tired, that's all this is. In a few hours, she'll wake up more, and he'll get some sleep and wake up, and they'll both be embarrassed by this. Some time will go by before they talk again, and it'll be another thing they just pretend away. She has to hang up. He does. One of them has to be sensible.

"Eriol." She can't say anything more. It's impossible. So she does the only thing she can. Pretending only prolongs the agony, right? She doesn't have his answers.

He hears her disconnect the line. Shudders. He puts his phone down, unable to stand the buzzing sound. She didn't say goodbye. She didn't say anything at all. He thought she had the answers he had to have. Maybe nobody does. Maybe there are no answers to be had.

He looks up the stairs, but can't bring himself to climb them. She's not Tomoyo, not what he needs. Tonight, he just can't do it. He curls up in the rocker, the blanket from the sofa over him. He'll wait for dawn here.


End file.
